


[Sweet] Pretty Flowers

by 1candyangle



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Body Horror, F/M, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hanahaki Disease, Murder, Poison Apples, Poisoning, Rare Pairings, Romance, Sakura (Cherry Blossoms), Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29162997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1candyangle/pseuds/1candyangle
Summary: The mafia courts their lovers in gruesome ways.Bianchi cooks and kills.Dino watches breathlessly, body producing flowers to lay at the feet of the one he desires.Written for the KHR rare pair valentines day mini-fest. Prompt: Hanahaki Disease.
Relationships: Bianchi/Dino (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: KHR Rarepair Week VDay Mini-Event 2021





	[Sweet] Pretty Flowers

Dino is hopeless. This is not news - not to himself, not to his men, not to his closest friends and family. Reborn tried his best to make Dino a man worthy of the title Don Cavallone and Reborn’s best is the greatest the world has to offer but at the end of the day - you can’t save a man from himself.

And a hopeless man he is. He watches her from the corner of his eyes, holding himself still like prey in front of a predator. He savours every glance he steals.

Her hair swaying with her movements.

Her lips blood red.

Her eyes as sharp as razors.

Her mind faster than a scorpion strike.

Smells of cooking oil, garlic and mysterious fumes fills the small Sawada kitchen.

Dino is hopelessly transfixed, hypnotized by the poise and presence of the young mafia princess, Bianchi. His lips tingles with want, feeling swollen as he mouthed her name to himself.

—

Dino loves Japan.

He loves the food. Sushi and rice and noodles and mochi and tea - so different from the milk and wine and cheese and pasta that raised him.

He loves how Japan and Italy both featured heavily in the family style eating, dishes shared and bowls exchanged. He is close with his men, his brothers in arms and he loves sitting around and sharing sustenance, life’s bread and butter. A belly full of food and a heart full of love. The way to a man’s heart is his stomach, after all.

Bianchi, always hovering as close as her brother allows, joins them night after night. Dino never hesitates to receive anything she passes along, her nimble fingers gracefully handing dishes down the line.

Dino eats the food without worry, without fear. It tastes good, hints of unknown spices rolling on his tongue. Laughter and joy and conversations fills the air, a symphony of cheer and proof of survival. Dino’s arms brush Bianchi’s sun kissed skin, his leg gently presses against her own under the crowded table.

The room spins, his eyes blurry. Vertigo twirls around his head. Punch drunk, Dino’s cup empty of the non-alcoholic drink.

—

Dino saw her kill once. It was effortless, silent and unremarked upon. Untraceable, but not quick. Not merciful.

The man who insulted her beloved brother, who slandered Gokudera Hayato, called him a servant and dog begging for the grace of Vongola to save him from his shame, convulsed and vomited blood for weeks.

In the end, the doctor’s diagnosed a rare bacteria, growing and destroying the man from the inside out.

He ate Bianchi’s Tiramisu and starved to death.

Dino’s stomach twists, imagining the taste of the man’s last meal.

—

The cherry blossoms bloomed in the spring. Kyouya disappeared from patrolling the city, demanding that Dino assign himself the circuit in absentia.

A miracle occurs and the scorpion walks through the falling petals next to him, her body a tightly controlled masterpiece, the smell of burning cinnamon hovering from her hair, still sharper and more pungent than the thousands of flowers encircling their walk.

She rushes forward, chasing the young ones as they inevitably stumble upon trouble, leaving Dino to catch up from behind.

Dino tries not to trip as his chest grows heavy, the weight of possibilities crushing him and making each breath a struggle.

—

The morning air tickles Dino’s throat, a single cough rumbling out between his lips.

Bianchi is flowing, moving through the motions of little I-Pin’s martial arts routine, helping the young child with her practice.

Dino is mesmerized. She has rendered him breathless.

—

Dino is hopeless but he isn’t oblivious.

Blood stains his napkin as he coughs in the bathroom. Bright, bright red and fresh. He coughs harder, muffling his noises as much as possible, not wanting his men, his Romario to worry. Soft, thin tissue fills his mouth, causing him to gag. Dino heaves and spits out cherry pink flowers. Spots of red splatter the petals that fills sink.

He cleans it up, flowers in the waste basket and bleach washing the blood down the drain.

When he exits the bathroom, Bianchi stands there, timidly. Concern is plain on her face, her plump lips turning down. Dino smiles his most charming grin, hoping his breath doesn’t smell floral.

They walk back down to the kitchen together and Dino accepts the warm tea from her hands with his heart full and his throat aching.

—

Dino is not the all-encompassing Sky type like Tsuna. Dino was born and raised in a southern Italian winery, air hot and humid. The sun was always present, clouds only appearing with rain, mists rare and storms rarer, lightning strikes leaving devastating forest fires behind.

The Sky is low and dangerous, the only protection from the hellish atmosphere of space. The Sky is holy, prayed up to like God can only hear from the heavens, heads of the people bowing down.

Dino is a Sky. He is the boss and his people depend on him, rever him.

And he found something else to worship instead, blasphemy poisoning his ability to breathe.

Dino does not blame the nature of those around him. Tsuna is meek and strong and steadfast. Romario is devoted and dedicated and intelligent. Kyouya is mean and abrasive and determined. Reborn is devilish and chaotic and merciful.

Bianchi is full of grace and romantic ideals and lethal.

Dino is dying for her. Whether it is from her venom seeping through her finger tips or the stuttering of his heart as it pounds in his chest, he doesn’t know.

Dino is choking on his love for her, flowers spilling from his lips as he hides away, hopeless in benediction.

—

Dino and Bianchi, young and beautiful, adults in body but not in mind, stand on the sidelines watching their little brothers conquer the world, one battle at a time.

Dino hides his breathlessness and pretends it is awe for the flames lighting up the sky.

Her hand holds an apple, ruby red and just as tempting. The crunch of it echos despite the battle in the background as she takes a casual bite. Her voice is a melody to Dino’s untrained ears.

“It has been years since I’ve poisoned someone on accident. Would you like the antidote?” Her smile quirks, remorse almost tangible as she stares past Dino to her beloved brother.

Dino can’t answer, even if he wants to. His mouth is full of flowers.

She turns to look at him. All Italian scorpion with venom in her teeth, she demands in a single word. “Dino.”

His name has never sounded sweeter, a siren’s call. The twisting plant in his lungs surges forward, answering her. He spits uncontrollably, vomiting flowers at her feet, his unwanted gift to her.

The air permeates with the smell of cherry blossoms and iron, spreading from his breath as he faces the woman he loves and fears.

“You are not responsible for my happiness or my life.” He chokes out the words, throat torn and lungs filling with petals. “You didn’t poison me.”

She hisses, deadly as ever. “I did. I put arsenic in your tea and neurotoxin in your rice. Bleach marinated your rotten steak and cyanide sprinkled your curdled ice cream. You do not want me, you can not survive me.”

Dino laughs. More flowers fall from his mouth as he heaves in response.

“You know what disease I have - I know you spoke to Shamal. I will never ask you for more than what you are, for more than what you’ve already fed me. It is not your responsibility to love me.” Dino voice is weak, panting as he gasps for air between sentences.

Bloody flowers suffocating him are a non issue to Dino, regardless of reciprocity. It is simply the price to pay and Dino understands the weight of love. Dino is more terrified at the tears in Bianchi’s eyes. They pool and fall to her cheeks, running down to water the flowers surrounding them. The battlefield is silent now, still, as everyone watches in horror the spectacle of Dino’s confession.

“Please,” she pleads. Dino doesn’t understand why. “Just, eat the apple.” She raises up her offering, her poisoned fruit.

Dino is fearless and full of adrenaline. He is standing on a cliff edge and either direction leads to his death. He reaches out and cradles the apple grasped in her hand. Bianchi is the Poison Scorpion and Dino accepts her providence willingly. She helps him lift it to his mouth, her eyes widening and lips parting, a rosy flush to her cheeks as if she is the one in pain.

Dino bites down, the crispness of the apple skin snapping between his teeth. As he chews, the tart juice flows from his mouth and spills to his chin. As he swallows, the pulverized flesh of the fruit moves over his tongue and down his abused esophagus, settling lightly into his stomach.

As he breathes, lungs full of just air, Bianchi steals his breath again with a kiss.

Bianchi is poison and love and passion. She can cook and kill in the same pan and smile and flirt and be the big sister and the confidant and an independent, multidimensional woman who deserves the world.

But Dino has watched her. He saw she just wants her brother to be able to look at her in the eyes again, just wants forgiveness. She wants true, unconditional love.

Dino is hopeless and hopelessly in love with a woman who can kill him. And Bianchi is in love with a man who would let her.

—

If I gave you pretty flowers  
If I took you out to dinner  
If we walked home by the river  
Would you invite me here?

\--

**Author's Note:**

> Did I romance right? 
> 
> There might have been a metaphor or two in there, who knows. I just wanted Bianchi to get some flowers! And Dino to eat food, like a good Italian boy! Then this happened. I regret nothing.
> 
> Title and finishing lyrics are from Steve Martin - Pretty Flowers.
> 
> Hanahaki Disease - a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love.


End file.
